People talk much about war zones. Today I thought I would share a little of my experience of living in one. I had decided to head off one day to church in Jerusalem. I was thinking about the day ahead and was largely oblivious to events unfolding around me, when suddenly I was grabbed from behind. Having been accosted by numerous men in Israel, including the delightful guy, who had offered to let me “peel his banana,”I was scared and I had struggled. (to no avail)
Anyway turns out, I must have been so fixated on my trip, I had failed to notice, the empty street.
Well almost empty…
..Except for military personnel.
Turns out, there was a bomb scare and I had been grabbed by a soldier to protect me. I had been scared and I had tried to wriggle from his grasp, yet he had not left a mark on me.
I had shortly been able, to continue unconcerned on my way – my skin unblemished. I had cause to reflect on this, when years later following the end of my relationship, a friend had remarked,
“You don’t have bruises on your arms any more.”
This is not intended to be a commentary on any particular race or country. To me this is about the true nature of strength. The kind of strength which some men (and women) have, regardless of religion or race, that leaves neither bruises nor dead people. The kind of strength, which leaves behind only respect. I think he was even smiling kindly, when he had released me.
“Violence is weakness. True strength comes not through brutality and savagery, but through tenderness, mercy and grace.”
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